Welcome to Hell
by jikasnow
Summary: Johnny Cade's parents have been on a rather mean streak lately, and after getting beaten up by a gang of Socs, Johnny decides that he doesn't want to live here anymore, so he runs away. He wished he didn't.


After a particularly good day of school, Johnny Cade was walking to his house. Of course he was still pretty nervous, but otherwise he was feeling great. This was a rare feeling for him. He was pretty reluctant to go to his house since his parents had been on an extra mean streak lately, but he really didn't want to impose on his friends much more. He had already stayed over at Ponyboys' house for three nights in a row not long ago, and he just felt like a nuisance to everyone else in the gang, even if they didn't say it outright. At least the Socs had laid off for the most part today, he thought as he jammed his hands into his pockets and proceeded on his way. Besides, maybe his parents wouldn't notice him as he walked through the front door, he reminded himself. Maybe his mother would be passed out on the couch and his father, too engulfed in whatever was on the television to notice. Or maybe they would be too busy trying to kill each-other to notice him.

Johnny was so consumed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the yellow Corvair approaching him from behind. At least, not until he heard some car doors slamming and some malice filled voices shout, "Hey, Grease!"

Johnny just proceeded walking, although at a slightly quicker pace. He tried to keep his cool, and maybe they would go away. The fact that they were calling him "grease" didn't make him feel too great about himself, but he carried on. At least he wasn't stuck up like those Socs. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, his heart sank to see that there were more than six of them. Not that he bothered to count, because if he did he would be having panic attacks at the very moment. Of course he was nervous, but he kept trying to convince himself that they were just trying to get some satisfaction out of scaring him. Besides, when _wasn't_ Johnny nervous? Maybe after a while, they would go away. Even so, he couldn't help but to hear that more voices were joining in, insulting him and threatening him. Each voice overpowered one another, until he could only pick out certain words. He also noticed that their shouts were getting louder, and closer. Although he knew it was likely to be a bad idea, Johnny decided to look over his shoulder again, just to see how close they were to him.

He wished he hadn't.

Now Johnny realized that some of these guys _were_ following him, not just yelling at him, to his utter horror. _What else_ did he expect, though? This was seriously just his luck. Have a good day, then have it turned around by a gang of Socs. Johnny could definitely feel tears welling up in his eyes, blurring up his vision. He wiped some of the tears away, and he was so scared he didn't even feel the tears on the back of his hand. Everything felt like it was in slow motion, and the moment felt surreal, and sinister. Even the way the wind was blowing seemed to have a malicious edge to it. Johnny knew _exactly_ what was going to happen, and he also knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. The dread he had felt due to those two things, was inexplicable. The shouts of the men on his tail kept growing louder and closer, with every breath he took, every single rapid and pounding heartbeat he felt. Johnny tried to run, but it was like running with pins and needles. His legs were like styrofoam. It was like one of those absolutely horrendous nightmares where you want to scream for help and mercy, but nothing comes out; Only this was real life. Johnny knew it wasn't a dream because unlike in a dream; Even a vivid one, he was able to _feel_ his heart pounding at a mile a second. He could _feel _his head throbbing like he was about to pass out. Johnny wished it was a dream, that he could wake up at any second, but that wasn't going to happen, and he knew it. This was truly a living nightmare. Instead of becoming faster in his panic, Johnny was actually slowing down and becoming shakier. His steps grew shorter as his breathing quickened. His stomach was on a spin cycle or a blender. If he walked any further, he felt like he might just collapse then and there.

"Aye, don't ignore me, you filthy hood!"

They were gaining on him. Johnny proceeded to speed up to an excruciating pace, and with the amount of immense dread he was feeling, his body could barely move let alone function correctly. He stopped looking behind him because he knew what was to come if he did. He just had to keep going. Besides, he was already kind of close to his house. Just a block or two, and he'd be relatively safe. It only made sense that these Socs would come after the small, defenseless one. After letting out a dry sob, Johnny realized that he had a knife in his back pocket. He wasn't defenseless, after all! He slowly reached into his back pocket, and his small spark of hope quickly faded as he realized it was gone. The switch blade wasn't there. The one time he'd needed it, he'd forgotten it at home. Johnny tried to bite back his tears and just think about getting home, but deep down, he knew that wasn't happening. Not without a few injuries, at least.

"Turn around, you worthless, greasy trash."

Johnny, regrettably, spun around. "Please don't hurt me," He begged in a small voice and began to sob. He was a shaking and sobbing mess, and he knew this only encouraged the gang. Then, he realized that these Socs had planned this attack. They were trying to lay off all day today to surprise him by ganging up on him like this, and Johnny didn't like it one bit. He knew that if he was a six-foot tall beefcake, they would have laid off but because Johnny had to be so small and wimpy, they weren't going to let him off easy. This made Johnny feel both furious, and worthless at the same time. Of course he didn't act on his emotions, but he was feeling them, alright. One guy approached.

That's where everything went black.

Johnny woke up on the hard pavement. Everything was blurry, and he had no idea what was going on or how much time had passed. Then he realized that his backpack was missing, and that he was hurting all over. All it took was one jolt to realize he was still being beaten and kicked. His first impulse was that it was his parents. Then he realized that he was still on the sidewalk, getting beaten up by those Socs. They were _laughing. _He didn't understand how they could be so cruel, because Johnny knew that they didn't care how badly he was injured. Johnny could die or get stuck in a coma, and they wouldn't care. His sides burned and the amount of pain he was feeling was tremendous. One Soc was hitting him with a baseball bat. The rest were kicking him, harder and harder as they proceeded. This was hell. Johnny tried to sit up, despite all his muscles screaming in protest as he proceeded to be kicked, before another kick landed on his face, sending him flying backwards. Everything went black for a second time.

Johnny woke up again, this time face-down on the pavement. His whole body was dirty, which probably wasn't a good thing considering the amount of open wounds he'd gained just now. He was hurting all over. Struggling to stand up, he heard footsteps and felt a blunt pain in the back of his head, and down he went. Now they were kicking at his arms and legs while one pinned him down and began to punch him in the face. One of them had pressed a hot cigarette butt to his arm, and Johnny couldn't help but to scream. He wasn't sure if he was crying, or bleeding, or both but he figured both. Johnny just wished this would stop. "Help!" He screamed over and over again, but it was as if either nobody heard him, or nobody cared. He went unconscious for the last time.

Opening his eyes, he heard them leave into their yellow Corvair and drive into a nearby puddle to splash him, laughing all the way. Now all wet, dirty, confused, and cold, Johnny propped himself up on his hands. _What a crazy dream,_ he thought. _Wait.. Is this a dream? Was this whole day nothing but a nightmare? Did I just get attacked? No... It couldn't have been a dream. Oh god, this wasn't a dream and I know it,_ he thought, miserably as he realized he was still on the pavement, a few feet away from where he'd originally been attacked. Even breathing hurt, and he had to take shallow breaths to avoid much more pain. His fingers and toes were numb from being so cold, and Johnny wondered how long he had been getting beaten for. He didn't want to think about it. Ashamed, humiliated, and in excruciating yet numbing amounts of pain, he eventually forced himself up, though it took a lot of effort. Then, he stumbled back home. He would try to fix up his wounds, then go to Ponyboy's house.

It probably took him an hour to get home in the condition he was in, and the moment he walked through the door he wished he would have just went to Ponyboy's house instead of here. Anywhere but here, because this house was a living hell.


End file.
